


Unbirthday Gifts

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Desperation, Dom/sub, F/M, Power Dynamics, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby goes to Gold with a gift of sorts in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbirthday Gifts

 “You like red, don't you, Ms Ruby?” Mr Gold's tone is mild, like it usually is – weird how a guy can be feared by almost everyone in town and still barely ever raise his voice, let alone stiffen it. She doesn't turn around, and instead waits in the middle of his shop with her right hand on her hip, left holding the basket of muffins Granny had insisted she take around.

It's the week of Mr Gold's birthday, after all, and this is a sort of normal thing by now – she realizes, with a dim sense of _something_ off that lasts only a fleeting second, that she doesn't know what the _date_ of his birthday _is_.

“Uh, yeah,” says Ruby, because it's both the answer he's expecting and the _correct_ answer, and lying to Mr Gold isn't something any sane person'd recommend, “I kinda think that's obvious.” Being _rude_ to Mr Gold isn't something any sane person would recommend either, but sometimes it gets a really _nice_ result.

Ruby hears the bolt in the door slide into place with a sharp sound, and despite herself her voice hitches in her throat. When she glances back at the door, the OPEN half of the sign faces inwards.

Ruby smiles at Mr Gold with closed lips, and ignores the way her entire body is _stiff_ with anticipation and excitement, an electric _jolt_ curling through her clit. It's a precursor, she knows, to coming arousal- _Ha._

Coming.

“Oh, _obvious_ , yes,” Gold says, and when he smiles at her it's predatory in a way that makes her knees _tremble_. He steps past her with a quick little stride, and she follows him, her heels making quiet clacking sounds on the old wooden floor, her hips swinging as she moves; she likes to show off for Mr Gold, when there's no one around to watch or to criticize.

God knows they _love_ to criticize.

But it's Mr Gold's birthday - er, _soon_ ish or just recently or today, _**maybe –**_ and really, doesn't an old man deserve a _treat_ now and then?

“Do you know what's obvious to _me_ , Ms Ruby?” comes a question as he locks the back door and gestures to his _completely_ clear desk.

“How nice my ass is in this skirt?” His brow furrows in quiet disapproval, and he _tuts_. A sort of exhilarating flush runs through her, seeing him look at her like that, like he might bend her over his _knee_ at any moment. “I mean, uh- I don't know, _Mr_ Gold.”

“What is obvious to _me_ , my dear – bend over the desk here, please, palms flat to the wood – is that you are a _terribly_ disobedient young flame of a girl.” She stares at him, just for a moment – he hasn't asked her to do _that_ before, to bend over, but the idea is _exciting_. He's going to take her from _**behind**_.

“Happy birthday, Mr Gold,” Ruby says sweetly, and she sets the basket on the side, then moving forwards in a way she hopes is _endearing_ , intoxicating – he wants _him_ to be as _**excited**_ as she is. She leans, puts her hands as instructed, and looks forwards.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mr Gold purrs, and he moves forwards. She freezes, still and ready to feel his touch over her blouse, her skirt, her bare legs – she loves this part, always loves this part, remembers all the times they've done this – how many times _have_ they done this? He does not _touch_ her though, not with those gentle, easy caresses he's come to expect; instead he pulls her hips back, pushes against her belly to force her to arch her back slightly and adjust her posture. “Shoes off.”

This is **different** , but she can feel a sort of tense, _electrified_ tension on the air that makes her skin tingle and her lips part and her cunt _twitch_ as she begins to get _**wet**_ under the red pencil skirt curled tight to her ass, hip and thigh. She leans on her hands and kicks each of the stilettos aside, leaving her in just long, white stockings that are held up by the muscle of her thigh alone.

“Spread your legs a tad, my dear.” She can never get over the way his silver tongue curls around the “r” in that word, how _filthy_ he makes it sound. Mr Gold can make _anything_ sound filthy. She does, feeling the cold floor under her feet, but it's clean, at least – no splinters. “How much do you like _red_ , Red?”

“Red?” Ruby repeats, and he _chuckles_ to himself, as if at a private amusement.

“Ruby,” he corrects himself as if it had just been a slip of his tongue, but she's _sure_ he meant something by it, _positive_ that he was laughing at some sort of **joke**. “how much do you like _red_?”

“A lot.” Ruby says, and she feels Gold's finger and thumb touch to the zip on the side of her waist, pulling it down with a drawn-out noise of plastic teeth coming apart, until its all the way down and he begins to tug the skirt off her legs.

“Oh, _my,_ ” Mr Gold says in a faux-scandalized tone as her skirt drops in a neat pile at her ankles, and she knows that the blood-coloured briefs she's clad in are the reason for the comment, “you _do_ like red, don't you? Unfortunate **complexion** , of course...”

She stares forwards, eyes sifting unnecessarily over the books on the shelves and the random trinkets amongst them, because she can't turn back to _look_ at him, not like this, and for some reason Ruby always finds it even _hotter_ to think about him than to see him, sometimes.

“What's unfortunate about my complexion?” Mr Gold hums thoughtfully, and she feels his hands slip over her buttocks, thumbs warm and sensual where they flick at the edges of her underwear, fingers warm where they grasp at the flesh.

“Why, **dearie** , you're simply so _pale_.” There's something different to Mr Gold's voice, just for a second or two, a sort of less-than-human _giggle_ , and then it fades as quickly as it had come for him to say, “I should like to add some _rouge_ to this derrière of yours.”

“Huh?” And then his hand, a little rough on the palm but not _calloused_ , slams down onto her right ass cheek, and he lets out a harsh cry of sound, almost dropping from her hands to her forearms at the sudden painful _heat_.

“Oh, _yes_. That's a lovely pink, that is.”

“Do it again.” Ruby puts her demand through clenched teeth as the heat tingles on her ass for a few moments and then begins to fade: she can feel wetness beginning to gather against the crotch of her panties. She _wants_.

“I believe it's to be _my_ birthday gift, my dear,” he reminds her neatly, but his hand comes down in a loud, ringing slap on the other side, and then it happens again, and again, and _again_ – he alternates, adjusts the land of each spank from left to right, from upper thigh to the top of her ass, and soon enough her whole _ass_ is burning with hot goodness.

She's never been so ready to be _fucked_ in her life.

Ruby is panting when it finally comes to a stop, and those not-soft but not-rough fingers touch over the heated, burnished-red skin of her ass, bringing out the _ache_ in the skin.

“You are a lovely little thing, Ms Ruby.”

“I'm not so little.”

“Hm. Perhaps not _so_ little,” he says with a casual mockery, and he pats her ass. There's a pause, heavy and pregnant in the air, and then he hooks his finger in the waistband of her briefs before dragging them down in one swift movement. “Oh, look at _that_. That seems quite red as well – different shade, of course. Complementary, I'd say.”

He traces over her labia with two fingers, playing over the flesh where it's widened, reddened: it feels _good_ , and she shudders.

“Are you quite ready, d'you think, to continue my birthday celebrations?”

“What date _is_ your birthday, Mr Gold?” There's a short pause, and then he distracts her _tremendously_ , moving to cup her sex with his hand in such a tremendously rough movement that she lets out a needy _groan_ of noise.

“What was that, **dearie**?”

“Doesn't- doesn't matter, Mr Gold, _come on_ -”

“Ah, yes. Let's come along _indeed_...”


End file.
